Author's notes: This chapter is going to be the longest I've written by far. I would like to thank everyone who decided to give this a go. I would, from the bottom of my heart, want to give a special thanks to Leodragon678, who favorited, reviewed and decided to follow my story. I hope you enjoy reading my fanfiction, and I want you to know I read some of your and they kept my attention till the end. Feel free to PM me if you want to give me some feedback on my fanfiction or get some behind the scenes info, however if its easier just leave another review. With that out of the way, here is my next chapter.

Chapter 4: Spider Hater

It has barely passed a few minutes since the last time I jotted down my last entry, and already so much has transpired, my whole body is quaking. Blood has never drained from my face as much as now, I must look as pale as if I was the one who got killed. There has been some progress regarding my approach into the depths, but I will have completely lost my wits by the time I plunge into the gist of everything.

It would be a lie to say I knew about the ordeal that I would go through in the storage room. It didn't strike me much at first, it was just some doors placed on each side of the room I stepped into, with shelves between each door. Miscellaneous inventory was placed on these shelves, from some old paint cans to some small, empty cardboard boxes, every one of them rendered obsolete. There was, however, something that I found convenient. I complained about not being able to utilize the paraffin lamps scattered around this place, and felt guilty for not bringing a lighter. Lady luck smiled on me, as I spotted a zippo lighter on the shelf, besides the empty boxes. She didn't smile hard enough, since the lighter wouldn't work even after a few tries. I figured it ran out of fuel, and begrudgingly slid it down my coat pocket. I always fancied the aesthetic of a zippo lighter, but that is to be postponed until I acquire some fuel for it. Hope this room proves worthy of its name.

As I deposited the lighter, I looked down at the shelf from where I picked it up. I squinted my eyes in confusion as I pointed my flashlight at the carved markings on top of it. There was a picturesque equation that I assume goes: "Zippo lighter + fuel canister = burning bug and smiley face". I immediately began to wonder what mind forged these drawings as I noticed on the shelf below another drawing that had a bunch of poorly made spiders, an equals sign, and an unhappy face. I couldn't tell if this was a work of a child or a deranged person. Soon enough, the peculiarities transcended from visual to auditory, as a muffled sound came from the door next to the shelf. I leaned and placed my ear on the door, hoping to distinguish the sound. It sounded like chattering and whispering, and this time it didn't sound like a monster. There was an ordinary, living person behind those doors.

Excitedly anticipating much needed explanations, I rushed to open the door, only to find it locked. I must have startled the person behind the door, as their chattering became louder and followed with gasps and trembling.

"Hello? Who is there?" I inquired.

No response directed to me. They merely increased the volume of their panicked rambling and murmuring. My concern grew as I evaluated his state of mind with which he barricaded himself from any outside sources. He was more than perturbed, locking the door to the room and ignoring my presence. I figured I couldn't much more now, so I decided to explore my surroundings further.

The only unlocked door lead to a room void of anything else but a single crate in the middle of the room, filled with heavy rocks. That room had another door leading to another room just next to the room accommodating the person. In that room I saw, among many bags and crates, another one of these artefacts. The moment I saw it, the only desire in my head was to touch it, so I did, and my body was overflown with familiar sensations. To my surprise, no silhouette appeared before me, simply a flash of white. Obtaining nothing else of interest, I wondered if there were more carvings I haven't found yet. My suspicions paid off, as I found two more of these cartoons. One of them suggested the crate with rocks concealed a trapdoor, and the other one depicted steam coming out of a pipe and a smiley face with crossed out eyes, meaning he was dead.

They turned out to be true. Upon removing the rocks from the box and moving it out of its spot, a trapdoor was revealed. It lead to nothing but stone surrounding an assortment of barrels and crates. I was unnerved by the sight of a cramped tunnel burrowed by something vicious, leaving terrifying marks on the stone. I gulped as I crawled into the dark tunnel system. I was about to make a turn, when a giant spider passed by my line of sight. I am terribly afraid of spiders, the sound these hideously contorted pests make while walking puts me on wits' end. Still, even with my heart in my throat, I carried on into one of the branching tunnels, my flashlight requiring a change of batteries on top of everything else. I came upon a dead end, however a stack of crumbled notes laid there. I took the time to read and paraphrase them in my notebook:

Day 1

I started writing here, in hopes these will prove to be one day of great importance. Our work might change the way we perceive us, and perhaps awaken our true potential. I separated myself from the group involuntarily, and now I must wait for rescue to come. I barricaded myself in the workshop area, and my food supplies are meagre. All the chaos that has ensued briefly leads me to believe that these mines are cursed, and the records corroborate my thoughts. Fate has struck again, after all these years.

Day 7

My assumptions were mistaken. I still haven't been recovered from my entanglement, and now I must accept the notion that I suffer the same fate as these mines. Another mistake was coming out in the open. I was checking for any signs of life, and came upon those who I am not familiar with. These disjointed black creatures with red stripes outmaneuvered me, I sprained my ankle running away from them. I retreated into a storage room for the time being. I will not venture again until I am certain the area is safe.

Day 24

Rescue hasn't arrived. My food supplies are low. But worst of all, there are a lot spiders in here. I hate spiders.

I believe this is where the notes begin to take a morbid turn:

Day 34

One of the accursed, eight legged beasts just decided to settle down in my mouth. And what did I do? I swallowed it. It was a reflex and it most likely lead to my doom. Chaos knows how much these cave dwellers bear venom.

Day 35

I'm alive. Any venom known to me would have decimated my existence. This is cause for celebration after so long. Not only that, but this means I have discovered another inexhaustible food source. Time to scour the rocky basement these critters use as their habitat.

Day 50

I have never had such a tasty sustenance before, I never would have expected that from spiders. Good news as well. I discovered that these creatures are deterred by light. Now that my flashlight is out of batteries, they are coming out like vegetables on a farm. I am going to have a rather hearty meal tonight, and the only thing I have to do is lie still for a short while.

Day 75

Alright, let's forget my entry from earlier. They have a small amount of venom in their stomach. Over a period of time, they might prove to be fatal, or at the very least, detrimental to my now fragile state of mind. I could look for some stashes of other food, but I don't have a flashlight, I can hear feral growls coming from the patrolling menaces, and the spiders are so tasty.

Day 100

Either the venom is playing tricks on my vision, or the spiders had a growth spurt. That is not so good, they won't be able to go through the cracks in the walls at this rate of growth and I will have to venture into their territory just so I can devour some of them. I am unsure whether my meddling is to blame for the size of these snacks, but whatever happens, I hope that my notes become regarded as a breakthrough in biology, and that my name finds itself in textbooks. I pray that the statement 'all discoveries consume their inventor' doesn't become literal.

These were all of the notes. My curiosity became confusion with a pinch of disgust. Still, reading all the notes gave me some cluttered context to the state of the man above me. I was hoping that, after I checked out all the corners in the basement, I could confront him with this information and possibly gain some trust before I inquire about his first notes.

I pondered about the breakthroughs his former research mentioned, the gist of which evaded me as it was vaguely presented and suppressed by his spider ramblings. My thoughts were interrupted the moment steam came from one of the thin pipes above me. The latter of the carvings advised me not to underestimate the blistering steam, and I cautiously timed my sprinting, mindful of the intervals steam came out of. There were three of these, and my misjudged timing on the last one painfully grazed my left shoulder. Those painkillers I picked up came in handy, otherwise I would not have been able to contain any cries of pain for too long.

I found myself in a secluded space, below the second locked room. The wire fence and a rusty padlock on the gate separated me from its contents. A single strike of my hammer destroyed the padlock, and within seconds I scavenged the shelves and the wooden boxes. Out of everything that was stored, I discovered a full canister of lighter fuel. At last, not only did the lighter work this time, I don't have to be prudent when using it, unlike my ravenous flashlight.

Procuring everything of interest, I made my way back through the cramp tunnels, but not without turning the valve on a pipe and blocking the steam. I could go through without putting too much thought into it. However, once I stepped out back where I entered the basement, a horrible event occurred above my head.

I heard loud thumping of the monster's feet, followed with the familiar growling that sent chills down my spine, and soon after, a startling crash. What followed was the guy's dreadful screams, however they came out unusual, as if there was something wrong with him. Another loud growl and a quaking sound came through the gaps in the floor, and soon after, the only sounds left were the loud footsteps and a sound of something being dragged on the floor. I recoiled in fear, and I wanted these horrifying sounds to stop. And once they did, I rushed up the ladder and opened the door to an unnerving sight.

Both of the locked doors were not only open, but obliterated. And there were wide streaks of dark red blood on the floor, I have never seen so much, not even in movies. They were leading out of the room the guy was in, and into the other room, in which I could only observe with my jaws open a freshly made hole in the wall. The opening was too big for a spider, yet barely big enough for me to pass through. I was struck with despair, as my chance of finding out what was going on in here has been massacred. This lingering fear was only fueled further with disgust once I entered the locked room and found a disturbing note from this spider hater:

Day 300

I came to the realization that I abandoned writing any notes for more than half a year, undeniably because of Chaos knows how many unforeseen events. I was forced to perform an amputation of a non-vital organ that had gotten swollen beyond recognition. I was in every way unprepared, I had no sharp tools except my pen knife, and no anesthetic could numb the pain I went through. Well, I know as a fun fact that however you position it, your tongue never sits comfortably in your mouth, so that won't bother me anymore. I tried once more to return to the base, but during my stay, there has been a cave in, and I can no longer leave. I managed to lock the workshop area with a key I found in the storage room. Despite locking away any of these feral monsters behind the gate, I'm afraid my aggressive spider cellmates are about to take revenge. Only Chaos knows how much time do I have before I turn prey to these critters.

That note was a consecutive punch to the gut. Not only am I unavoidably aware why his screams came out weird, his note confirmed that I was trapped in here. The only good thing is that he left the key to the workshop area right next to the note. I can only hope that the workshop holds the solution to my entrapment.

If I am lucky, this book about explosives I found in the office might just be a ticket for a way out of here.